


Sacrifices

by FriedGoldNotebook



Category: Spaced
Genre: Action/Adventure, Benedict Cumberbatch playing OMC, F/M, Friendship, Horror, M/M, Romance, Science Fiction, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:04:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3574130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriedGoldNotebook/pseuds/FriedGoldNotebook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious evil enemy tries to trick the gang into zombie slavery. Tim will have to sacrifice himself in more ways than one to save the day. Gloriously ridiculous plot, deliciously heroic Tim!<br/>Tim/Mike: tactile friendship/bromance. Tim/Daisy: will they/won't they love story (so just like the show really!)<br/>Rated mature for violence, torture and horror elements. But don't be put off, it's really a funny, sexy, crazy, romantic adventure story!<br/>Originally written for Halloween 2014, then it got a life of its own!<br/>Enjoy :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rude Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, guys, this started out as a story to celebrate Halloween 2014. It was supposed to be a couple of chapters long but my imagination ran away with me and I'm only just finishing it now (at Chapter 15)!  
> Anyway, this first chapter sets the scene and relationship parameters of my versions of Tim, Daisy and Mike, so doesn't do a lot, plot-wise. It all kicks off in Chapter 2 though, don't worry! Hope you enjoy, PLEASE let me know what you think :)

Daisy groaned inwardly, trying to resist the familiar gradual awareness of herself rising into her consciousness. She was waking up, but rather wished she was not. Those first few seconds of bliss as she revelled in her fading dream soon gave way to an abrupt recollection of real life. Her life. Which was not as she would have wished. It was the year 2000 for goodness sake, she should have published her first novel by now and, of course, won a Booker prize. She should not be living in a tiny rented flat, but a house she owned outright, bought with the proceeds from her fabulously successful debut novel. She would still, however, wish to be sharing this fictitious house with her current flatmate, Tim Bisley. She curled up towards the wall against which she had placed her bed and instantly regretted doing so. She could clearly hear the excruciating sound of Tim moaning softly as he masturbated on the other side of the wall. Daisy winced and rolled away, pulling her pillow over her head and squeezing her eyes tight shut again. It was the same almost every morning. Tim clearly possessed a voracious sexual appetite and a distinct lack of another human being to share it with. It wasn't that he did not desperately restrain the loudness every time, because he did. The fact that Daisy could hear him pleasuring himself was instead due to the ridiculously thin partition walls of their flat. Now unable to prevent herself imagining Tim with his hand around his cock, Daisy reluctantly swung her legs out of bed. She shuddered as her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. It was October 30th, the day before Halloween, and the weather had turned decidedly Autumnal in recent weeks. It was cold, rainy and the light was fading early, exacerbating her general feeling of depression. As she opened the curtains on this particular morning, however, it looked a little brighter than she had expected, a watery sun vaguely visible through a sheen of high cloud. Maybe today would not be such a bad day after all. Daisy pulled on yesterday's jeans and a pink t shirt she knew would not look too tight and headed out into the kitchen. Colin jumped out of his basket and trotted over to her, cocking his head on one side to produce the ever-so-cute expression he felt was necessary in order to get his breakfast.

"Morning, Colin." Daisy got his food out of one of the cupboards. "How did you sleep, then?" She placed his bowl down to be pounced upon and moved on to the next priority. Tea. "Did Tim's little activity wake you up too, hey?" She said to Colin in the sort of tone a mother uses to talk to her baby.

"Nope, you did."

"Huuuh!" Daisy jumped and whirled around in the direction of the voice, her brain, still half-asleep, ready to believe that Colin had finally learned to talk. Mike lay sprawled on their sofa under a blanket, yawning.

"Oh! Jesus Christ, Mike! You scared me, I didn't see you there." Daisy's tone softened through the sentence, her surprise dissipating, and was smiling at Mike by the end. Then she remembered what she had been saying and turned hurriedly back to the kettle to hide a rising blush. Luckily Mike was too sleepy to question her on it any further.

"Cup of tea, Mike?"

"Yes, thank you, Daisy."

"So what are you doing down here, then?"

"Well, yesterday evening Timmy and I were engaged in a rather vigorous session of multi-player Resident Evil 2 when it would appear that I lost consciousness. I couldn't tell you with any certainty what happened after that, Daisy, but suffice to say I woke up here under this blanket."

Daisy's initially horrified expression switched to one of relief as Mike clarified the sort of 'vigorous session' in which he and Tim had been engaged.

"Righto." She turned her back again, to hide a giggle this time at the military precision of Mike's description, and her own fleeting misunderstanding of what he had been doing with Tim.

As Daisy poured boiling water onto teabags in three mugs, Tim emerged from his room, wearing a pair of grey boxer shorts and a batman t-shirt, and scrubbing a hand through his scruffy bed hair.

"Morning, Mike." Tim smiled at his friend whilst simultaneously holding out his hand to receive the tea he was anticipating from Daisy. She handed him the cup, watching his face, waiting for him to greet her. He didn't.

"Morning, Tim. Sorry I fell asleep."

Ignoring Daisy, who stood with her mouth open, poised to speak to him, Tim wandered over to the sofa and perched down beside Mike's feet, smiling at him indulgently as a parent would a child.

"It's alright, mate. You were obviously knackered after the whole Marsha thing. D'you want a tea? Daisy, haven't you offered Mike a tea?"

Tim turned his accusatory glare on Daisy, who huffed indignantly. She grabbed Mike's tea off the kitchen counter and delivered it to him with a sarcastically exaggerated bow.

"Thanks, Daisy." Mike said mildly, oblivious of her grumpiness, his eyes only on Tim.

"Yer welcome." She muttered back, glancing between the two men. When Tim winked and smiled adoringly back at Mike over the rim of his mug, she flounced back over to the kitchen table. Daisy finally took a sip of her own cup of tea, sighing at the comforting warmth sliding down her parched throat. She mentally surveyed the day ahead. Walk Colin (ideally with the boys). Try to write some more of her practically non existent novel. There being nothing else she could conjure up, as she was currently unemployed, she looked over at the sofa again. Tim had his hand on Mike's leg now and he was gently rubbing it absent mindedly through the blanket as they talked.

"That twat from the TA's not giving you any more trouble is he?"

"Nope." Mike grinned. "He can't now I'm a sergeant. He has to take orders from me."

"Good. Wanker. I nearly knocked him out in the park that time."

Mike's eyes suddenly lit up as an idea came to him.

"Hey! How about you and me take Colin out for a walk this morning? We could take him down to the park." Tim smiled at Mike's childlike enthusiasm.

"Yeah, alright. Let me just put some clothes on." Tim gave Mike's leg a final squeeze and headed back into his room, draining the last of his tea. Daisy was watching all of this wondering if she had in fact died and was no longer visible to either of them. Even Colin was ignoring her as, sensing the impending walk, he weaved around excitedly at Mike's feet as he put his boots on. Daisy took one more swig of her tea and Tim, who had added combat trousers, socks and trainers to his outfit at seemingly light speed, re-emerged.

"Come on then, Colin." Mike called pleasantly to the little Schnauzer, waving his lead enticingly. Colin trotted happily out of the door and Mike strode after him, pausing to offer his hand to Tim, as though inviting him to dance. Tim accepted it and allowed Mike to lead him out of the flat, then ducked back quickly to grab his skateboard from just inside the door. They disappeared off down the stairs, hand in hand and chatting away, leaving Daisy staring at the open doorway in disbelief. She grudgingly got up and closed it behind them, trying to overcome the feeling of abandonment. When she flopped back down at the kitchen table though, feeling utterly sorry for herself, her eyes were overflowing and there was nothing she could do to stop it.


	2. Trick Or Treat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 2 and the spooky stuff starts! Enjoy :D

Half an hour of staring at her motionless typewriter was enough for Daisy to realise that she just wasn't feeling inspired today.

“Right, let's try something else.” She said aloud, inexplicably in that way that you do when you know you're alone but somehow it seems insufficient not to voice your thoughts. She headed towards her room then stopped abruptly, glancing furtively around her. She had just had an idea that she knew she should ignore but the temptation was simply overwhelming. She cleared her throat and strolled casually over to the door to Tim's room. She knew it was an invasion of his privacy, an abuse of the trust between them. But she really wanted to go in. She rationalised it to herself that she was not spying on him with any malicious intent, only trying to ascertain why he and Mike were so close, in the hope of getting closer to him herself. She hated being excluded by them. Her limited self esteem could not cope with any more instances like the one she had endured that morning. Steeling herself, she turned the handle and went in. Tim's bed was against the same wall as her own, which explained the ease with which she overheard his most private moments. The knowledge that they were separated only by plasterboard in bed was somewhat disturbing. She looked around the room, taking in Tim's collection of comic book memorabilia, and grimaced as her eyes met Sarah Michelle Geller's. The cork noticeboard on the wall above Tim's cluttered desk was covered in scraps of paper, cinema tickets, photos and a hand written letter, which on closer examination seemed to be from his mum. One of the photos caught her eye. It was of Tim and Mike in their mid teens, all boyish and cute, standing outside a house with their arms around each others shoulders, grinning broadly into the camera. They were both dressed as zombies, sporting gruesome face make-up, red contact lenses and 'blood splatter' liberally applied to their clothes and hands. Daisy lifted the corner of the photo to find Tim had helpfully written on the reverse.

'Jon's Halloween party, 1991.'

Daisy knew they were old friends, but how far back they went had never actually been clarified. Perhaps longevity was the only thing distinguishing her relationship with Tim from Mike's. She suddenly froze as she heard a scuffling noise in the flat. Shit. There was no reasonable explanation for her being in Tim's room. If he caught her, their friendship may not get the chance to develop to the level of intimacy that existed between him and Mike. She scurried back over to the door and, deciding to go with boldness, flung it open and dived out. She looked around in confusion, closely followed by relief, on finding the flat empty and sauntered casually across to the kitchen. Then her eyes narrowed as she noticed a piece of paper had been slipped under the door.

 

_Open the door and you will find,_

_a sweet treat that will blow your mind._

_Hope you enjoy your Halloween surprise!_

_Love from_

_The Halloween Fairy_

_xxx_

 

Daisy frowned and opened the door to find a small basket wrapped in cellophane sitting on the doorstep. Inside, nestling on a bed of orange tissue paper, were some beautiful handmade biscuits, in the shape of various Halloween images; bloodied zombie hands, ghosts, bats and spiders.

“Awww, that's sweet.” Daisy said. “Kind of a reverse trick or treat, I suppose.” The origin of the biscuits was a mystery to her. It seemed doubtful that Marsha would have made such an effort, especially considering the recent furore surrounding her discovery that Tim and Daisy had been lying about their relationship. She picked up the basket and placed it on the kitchen table. In an extreme expression of selflessness, she decided not to eat any until Tim returned, wanting to share them with him. In order to achieve this feat of self control, though, she grabbed her coat and headed out with absolutely no idea of where she was going.

****

Tim and Mike had been out for over an hour before they started heading back to the flat. They had messed around for a while in the park, Tim on his skateboard and Mike throwing sticks for Colin. But mostly they just wandered about, bantering and joking with each other, play punching and grabbing each other in headlocks. They sat on a park bench chatting nonsense, one with an arm around the others shoulders, or a hand on the others leg. They had no problem with displaying physical intimacy with each other simply because they were both male. It felt natural to them both to express their affection for each other through touch. No doubt some passers-by assumed they were a gay couple, something they were neither aware of nor cared about.

When they returned to the flat, Tim removed Colin's lead and tossed it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“I'm just, err, going to have a quick shower, Mike. I didn't get chance this morning.” Tim felt himself flush at the thought of what he had been doing that morning in the underwear he was still wearing. “Are you gonna hang out here for a bit?”

“Yes, if that's ok, Timmy.”

“Sure.”

Tim disappeared into the bathroom and Mike flopped down onto the sofa. As he glanced absent mindedly around the living room, he noticed the basket of biscuits and he went over to examine them more closely, his eyes lighting up.

He read the note, established that they were not addressed to anyone in particular and gave in to temptation. He chose a zombie hand shape first.

“Mmmm!” The biscuits were delicious, soft and gingerbread-like, and covered in sweet decorative icing. Mike counted eight biscuits in the basket and decided that two or maybe three would not be being greedy. In the end he had four, but they were scrumptious. “Right. Enough, Sergeant. Step away from the confectionery.” He ordered himself, and sat down on the sofa to wait for Tim. The water had stopped, indicating he was out of the shower. It must have been because the walk was so long that Mike suddenly felt extremely tired. He rubbed his eyes, trying to alleviate the pain that had emerged behind them and clear his blurry vision. The soreness intensified and spread down his body, all his joints aching acutely.

“What the...” He watched, horrified, as his skin seemed to grow paler, fading to a translucent white, revealing the glow of red blood vessels beneath. He felt his heartbeat slow considerably, but each beat was incredibly powerful, like being punched in the temples. Confused and frightened by his abrupt illness, he tried to stand up and found his legs were uncoordinated, his feet sort of dragging along the ground.

“Tim! TIM, HELP! TIIIIIIIM!” He screamed, panicking as his vision closed down to a tiny dot. Tim burst out of the bathroom stark naked brandishing a loofah, ready to fend off Mike's attackers. He froze, loofah aloft, in confusion when he saw Mike was alone.

“What's wrong!” He yelled, the adrenaline pumping.

Mike looked strange. He was excessively pale, his expression vacant. He seemed to be struggling to move around or focus on Tim.

“Hhhh dddrrrr.” Mike's speech was slurred to the point of being incomprehensible. Tim went over to him, trying to put himself in Mike's wildly roving line of sight, but his pupils were tiny, his irises faded to white.

“Mike, it's ok, it's me. Just nod if you can hear me.” Mike's head bobbed jerkily up and down. “Great. Alright, just hold on, Mike. I think you're hurt, I'm gonna call you an ambulance.” Tim dashed into his room, pulled on a pair of boxers and grabbed his phone from his jeans pocket. He dialled 999 and went back out into the kitchen, hopping along as he pulled on his jeans, the phone clamped between his ear and shoulder. He looked up to see Mike start moaning loudly and lumbering towards him, arms outstretched.

“It's ok, Mike. I'm getting you some help.” Tim was listening, waiting for the phone to be answered. He watched Mike slowly drag his feet along the ground, he took in the outstretched arms, the groaning, the vacant expression. The thought 'Shit, Mike's a zombie!' suddenly exploded inside Tim's head. He tried to reason with himself. There's no such thing as zombies.

“Mike! Calm down, mate, it's ok!” Tim stumbled backwards as he tried to placate him but Mike kept coming, lumbering and snarling now. Panic was rising fast in Tim's throat, as the nightmarish concept of his best friend turning against him took shape before his eyes.

“Mike, stop it!”

“999, Which service do you require?”

“Mike! Jesus Christ! It's ME! It's Tim!”

Then Mike was upon him, clawing at him, drawing blood. Tim dropped his phone and grabbed Mike's wrists to fend him off. He was a big guy though, easily overpowering Tim, forcing him backwards until he smashed into the wall beside the door to Daisy's room.

“MIKE!” Mike's hands were grasping at his naked torso, his mouth open, slavering, going for his neck.

“SERGEANT WATT, STAND DOWN!” Tim screamed at him in desperation. Some tiny part of Mike's brain that was still himself flickered with recognition and he paused. There was a few seconds of tense silence as Tim stared, petrified into Mike's dead eyes. Then Mike moved back and lowered his arms and Tim started breathing again. His brain scrambled to catch up with what was happening and formulate words into a sentence.

“Mike... Mike.” Was all he could gasp.

Mike screwed his face up in pain, physical or emotional, Tim could not discern. He suspected a combination of both. He watched, still too shocked to move, until Mike turned away and raised a shaking arm, waving vaguely at the kitchen table. Tim took the opportunity to slip out from between him and the wall in case he went all Terminator again. He seemed lost now though and just swivelled his head about, trying to see clearly. Tim took another breath and managed to locate his vocal chords.

“Mike. Do you know who I am? It's Tim. You won't hurt me, will you?”

Mike slowly turned back to look at Tim, who was horrified to see that he was crying, the tears looking odd coming from expressionless eyes. Mike made another noise, softer now, and a movement that looked like he was trying to shake his head. Tim's fear dissolved into relief. Mike recognised him, and Tim knew he would never intentionally hurt him. He had no idea what to do next, but he was sure that Mike needed his comfort now above everything else. He went to him and put a hand on his shoulder, forcing himself not to recoil from the weirdly clammy, spongy texture under his fingers. He reached up to Mike's face with his other hand and stroked his tears gently from his cheek.

“It's alright. Everything's going to be alright, Mike. I promise.” Mike shuddered and dropped his head onto Tim's chest.

“Tmmm.” He groaned awkwardly, trying to say his name.

“I know, Mate. It's alright. I've got you.”


	3. The Collectors

Tim held a zombified Mike in his arms, frantically trying to come up with a plan while he whispered reassurances into his friend's ear. He had barely had time for the adrenaline to subside when the door to the flat was hurled open, smashing back against the wall. Tim looked round just in time to see six black suited heavies swarm inside. They were inhumanly fast, ripping Mike away from Tim's protective embrace and snapping metal restraints onto his wrists.

“What are you doing, leave him alone!” Tim grabbed the nearest guy, spinning him round to confront him. “Who the fuck are you?” Tim yelled, then cowered back as the guy advanced menacingly.

“We're the collectors.” Then Tim was flying backwards from the force of a punch in the face so quick he never even saw the fist. He crashed down onto the coffee table, which collapsed beneath him, sending splintering wood in all directions. The stun of the blow hissed in his ears and his vision suffered white-out, coloured dots spinning crazily across the pale background. By the time he had recovered enough to sit up, Mike was gone. Tim scrabbled about for a sure footing amid the wreckage of the coffee table and staggered over to the window. He was just in time to see Mike being dragged out of the garden gate on the end of a chain attached to a metal collar around his neck. He was struggling ineffectually against six massive pairs of arms that lifted and pulled him along. Tim sprinted towards the door of the flat, colliding with the kitchen table in his semi-dazed state. It barely slowed him down. He grabbed his skateboard from its position beside the door and charged out, practically falling down the stairs. All he cared about was getting to Mike. As he burst out of the front door, Mike was being bundled into the back of a van and the door slammed shut. Tim hurtled down the path, throwing his board over the garden gate and vaulting over to land smoothly on it and power away after the collectors. Mike was roaring like Chewbacca in the back, pounding his fists against the window. Then he was pulled backwards out of sight. Wishing, not for the first time, that he had a hover board rather than a skateboard, Tim gave chase as fast as he could. He struggled to keep up with them, only just managing to keep them in sight, thanks to the narrow London streets, and the distinctive sign writing on the vehicle, which advertised a company apparently called 'Z Solutions'. The van headed out into distinctly wealthier London suburbs, and slowed as it approached a pair of huge wrought iron gates. They opened automatically, swallowed up Mike and the van and swept shut again before Tim could reach them. He stopped on the other side of the street, watching helplessly as the van disappeared up a long drive behind thick tree cover. As he focused on the gates, the letters D and S jumped out at him, woven in amid the intricate iron patterns. Tim's lungs were heaving from the effort of skateboarding at top speed, but he gasped in disbelief as he recognised those letters as the initials of his arch nemesis, Duane, and vindictive ex, Sarah. As he panted hard, he took a moment to spool back through the ridiculous events he had just experienced. First off, Mike had spontaneously transformed into a zombie. Zombies were real. But it now seemed that Duane and Sarah were in some sort of control of the situation. Those 'collectors' clearly worked for them. So, hang on, was Mike turning really spontaneous? Had they somehow caused it? Were they targeting people and transforming them into zombies? And why? And why Mike? If Duane and Sarah were behind this, it had to be personal. He just wished they had attacked himself directly. But hurting Mike to get to him was exactly the sort of maliciousness he expected from those two. He suddenly felt the full horror of the situation. Mike had effectively been abducted. He mentally assessed his options. Go to the police? And say what, exactly, that his friend had turned into a zombie? He would be the next one being locked up.

No, this was something he had to do himself. Working out how it had happened was the key. He set off for home on his skateboard, and was half way back when he remembered Mike trying to point at the kitchen table. He could suddenly see the opened basket of biscuits that his brain had not consciously noticed at the time. It had to be the biscuits! They must be laced with some kind of mind altering drug, or even cursed! Innocent Mike had come along and, having a sweet tooth, hadn't been able to resist them. He pictured the basket in his mind, there were definitely some left when it all kicked off... DAISY! Adrenaline spiked through his body again, producing a rapid acceleration as he realised that if he did not get home before her, she would be next.


	4. Malevolent Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fans of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost's brilliant 'Paul' will hopefully enjoy the reference in this chapter!

Fresh air and the physical exercise of her walk had made Daisy feel much more positive by the time she returned to the flat.

“Tim?” She called out hopefully as she stepped inside. Surely he and Mike must have returned by now. Then she saw the opened basket of biscuits.

“That little...” She broke off as she next took in the destroyed coffee table, and Tim's smashed phone on the floor. “What the... Tim! Mike!” No reply. She eyed the biscuits. Feeling she deserved a treat to get over the shock of coming home to a decimated coffee table, coupled with the evidence suggesting that Tim had already helped himself anyway, she rooted around in the basket, choosing a shape.

“Daisy!” She heard Tim yelling for her and his feet pounding up the stairs outside. She picked out a ghost and raised it to take a bite.

“Nooooooo!” Tim seemed to explode through the door and hurled himself across the room to knock the biscuit out of Daisy's hand.

“Oi!”

Tim landed head first on the sofa, rolling head over heels and swivelling simultaneously to emerge standing up and facing Daisy in a move which she could not help but admire, despite the situation.

“What's going on?”

“Don't...eat...the biscuits...Dais!” Tim gasped between deep drags of air. It was then that Daisy noticed the state he was in. Sweat was pouring down his face and the front of his t shirt was soaked, stuck to his lithe frame in a way which left little to the imagination. Her appreciation of his body, so rarely glimpsed, was eclipsed, however, by her indignation at his words.

“Why not? You obviously did!”

Tim's breaths rasped harshly as he struggled for oxygen.

“They're cursed, Dais! They're dangerous!”

Daisy laughed.

“Well that is imaginative, I'll give you that! Now tell me why you should get to eat them all?”

“I haven't had any!”

“Well who did?”

“Mike!” Tim's voice broke slightly over his name.

“Mike ate them and...” Tim grasped for words that didn't involve the 'z' one and came up empty. “They turned him into a zombie!”

“Stop joking around, Tim.” Daisy started.

“DO I LOOK LIKE I'M FUCKING JOKING! I don't understand it, ok? But Mike ate them and the next minute he was... all fucked up! He couldn't talk and he couldn't see properly...”

Daisy's expression changed, realising Tim was serious.

“Is he alright? Where is he now?” She interrupted.

“He... They came and... they took him!”

“Who? Paramedics?”

“No! Some guys in fucking black suits! Big guys, Daisy!” Tim sucked in a desperate breath. “I tried to stop them... but there were six of them! It's fuckin' Duane! They put Mike in a van and took him to Duane's fuckin' mansion! I followed them on my board, but they were too fast to catch.”

“You skateboarded all the way to Highgate?”

“Yes!”

“And back?”

“YES! Look, that's really not the point, Dais!”

“Sorry, I know. I'm just... struggling to take this in.”

“Tell me about it.” Tim's breathing was finally returning to normal. He was physically recovering, but also immensely relieved that Daisy believed him. He wasn't dealing with this on his own any more. They could do it together.

“So... you think Duane is behind this?”

“Duane and Sarah, yes.”

“There was a note with the biscuits.” Daisy activated her stunned limbs and grabbed it off the table to give to Tim.

“Shit, that's Sarah's writing! 'A sweet treat that will blow your mind!' That bitch!”

“Do you have any idea how this is possible,Tim?”

“I... I don't know, I mean... There are old legends of zombie curses being put on people. Shit, I knew Sarah was evil but I didn't think she was an actual witch! On account of not thinking there _were_ any actual witches!” Tim paused, thinking.

“Oh my god, poor Mike! What are we going to do?” Daisy was looking at him, seemingly waiting for him to come up with a plan.

“Right. Let's assume this is a zombie curse. Whenever there was a curse in any of the old legends, there would also be an antidote, or a spell, or something to reverse it. We just have to find out what that is.” There was a pause. Daisy was still watching him, awaiting instructions. Under intense pressure, Tim forced himself to focus and think back through his childhood comics, cult B-movies and Gothic horror novels. It had to be in there somewhere, oral ingestion of a poison that...

“Got it!” He yelled triumphantly. “Adam Shadowchild!”

“Who the hell is Adam Shadowchild?”

“He's one of the greatest science fiction and horror writers of our time! One of his early novels, 'Malevolent Sugar' concerned a zombie apocalypse brought about by deliberate cursing of selected individuals! It was a work of genius but, as he was undiscovered at the time, it never got the critical acclaim it deserved! That's not important, what is important is that the victims were captured by being tricked into eating cursed food! Always something they wouldn't be able to resist, something really nice, like...”

“Biscuits!” Daisy finished.

“Exactly!”

Tim disappeared into his room, closely followed by Daisy, and started rifling through his bookcase, chucking stuff out of the way onto the floor. He grasped an old leather-bound volume that was tucked down the back of the other books, brought it out, and blew dust from the cover.

“Here it is.” Tim said reverently. Now, if I remember rightly, there was a spell to reverse the zombie curse, and it was laid out in detail...” He was flicking through the yellowed pages, eyes scanning. “Here!” He poured over the book, nodding firmly as he read the beginning of the spell.

“Uh huh.” He murmured, concentrating.

“What does it say?” Daisy was practically bouncing up and down beside him, trying to get a look.

“Oooh!” He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he got half way down the page.

“What?” He ignored her, kept reading.

“Oh shit.”

“What!”

He dragged his eyes up to meet hers.

“We've got some serious work to do.”


	5. A Zombie Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cut to Mike's POV now, so it gets quite dark - there's some torture involved, just to warn you.

The four collectors in the back of the van with Mike kicked and punched him repeatedly as it jolted its way through the busy streets of London. They held him down for each other, pinning him to the floor and shackling his hands behind his back so he was defenceless against the onslaught. Mike considered himself to be a soldier, admittedly in the Territorial Army, rather than the regular forces, but a soldier none the less. He was used to wielding weapons, using escape and evasion tactics and fighting in hand to hand combat. At least in training anyway. This made his current situation all the more distressing. He had been overpowered and captured purely as a result of his own weakness for sugar. The mental torment this fact inflicted on his pride was almost equal to the physical pain he was currently suffering. When the vehicle finally came to a stop, he was thrown, bruised and battered on to the gravel driveway in front of an opulent and rather vulgar mansion. As Mike tried to shake the fog from his head, there was a sharp jerk on the chain attached to the tight metal collar around his neck. He coughed uncontrollably as it choked and strangled him, but through the haze he could see a pair of boots. Straining against the restraint of the collar, he looked up into the evilly smirking face of Duane Benzie.

"Ah, Mike, Tim's faithful little friend. We have the monkey, if not the organ grinder." Duane droned in his impossibly deep voice.

Mike tried to reply, the words he chose sounding clear in his head, but he could only produce an incomprehensible groan from his mouth.

"Get him to the work camp." Duane ordered the collectors, who were standing straight backed and alert, awaiting instructions. "And make sure he gets special attention, won't you?" Duane's chilling words were still thrashing around in Mike's head nearly an hour later. He was chained to a wall, undergoing what the men attacking him euphemistically termed 'training'. They lashed him with whips, over and over, his skin splitting instantly into welts from the force of the blows. They pounded him with cricket bats, pulverising the soft tissue of his legs and torso until he was collapsing, hanging off the chains which held him, arms outstretched, to the wall. Mike had never experienced pain like it. Simply being a zombie was agonising enough. His whole body hurt as his muscles and joints struggled against one another to coordinate his movements. But the additional suffering inflicted on him by Duane's men was extreme, the pain slicing through his entire being, leaving him screaming for relief. The men seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in what they did to Mike, laughing and taunting him throughout his ordeal. He tried to think about Tim, the one person who could usually make him feel better no matter how desperate the situation. Mike focused all of his waning energy on trying to picture Tim winking and smiling at him over his tea that morning, which helped him endure the seemingly endless torture. When it did eventually stop, Mike's body was covered in wounds and his bare feet grappled for a steady footing in a slick of his own blood.

"He's had enough." Mike heard one of the men say. "He'll be useless for labouring if he gets any more damaged."

Mike's shackles were unscrewed from the wall and he crumpled to the ground.

"Leave him here while we do the next one. Then, John, you take him out to the construction site."

The echoing sound of the men's boots receding was the most wonderful thing Mike had ever heard. Left alone at last, he closed his eyes and his fragile consciousness slipped away from him. He dreamt disjointedly about Tim, unconnected visuals popping like flashbulbs inside his head. He saw Tim's smile, heard Tim's laugh, felt Tim's arm around him and Tim's hand holding his. Mike's brain was frantically trying to erase the horror he had experienced, but it was all the more cruel when he was shaken awake and remembered where he was. John dragged Mike outside and led him by his collar and chain through thick banks of trees concealing the huge garden of Duane's house from the road. When the trees parted, Mike stopped short, staring at what was before him. If his eyes had been capable of conveying even a single expression, it would have been amazement. There were hundreds of zombies in the clearing, all apparently being held as slaves to carry out manual work. They were chained together in long lines digging drainage ditches, hauling carts of bricks and stone slabs, and building walls and structures. The construction plans, helpfully depicted on a nearby billboard, seemed to be for a vast pyramid and temple complex worthy of one of the later levels of the surprisingly addictive late 90's computer game, 'Pharaoh'. Duane was obsessed with this game. Mike remembered Tim complaining that he insisted on playing this strategy game by himself, rather than the two-person shooters Tim wanted them to play together. The situation was so surreal Mike wondered for a moment if this was all an 'Alice In Wonderland' dream sequence. The harsh jerk on his collar reminded him that it was very real, however, and he obediently followed his captor down into the clearing to be put to work.

 


	6. The Plan

"You have got to be kidding me." Daisy stated flatly.

"'Fraid not. But, hey, most of these are easy enough to get..." Tim scanned through the list he had copied out of 'Malevolent Sugar'. "Pumpkin juice, conkers..."

"It was more the excrement of vampire bats that was concerning me, Tim."

"We'll find a way, we have to." Tim stared into the middle distance as he pondered the problem. "Where can we possibly... London Zoo!" He exclaimed triumphantly. "I bet they can sort us out with the heads of chickens too! And most probably the web of a black widow spider, if we ask nicely."

"Are you insane? What are we going to say we need this stuff for?"

"I don't know, make something up, you're the writer!"

"Fine! I'll go to the zoo. What are you going to do?" Tim was already reaching for his coat.

"I'll get the other things, the conkers and stuff. Oh and you'd better get double of everything, you know, just in case we make a mistake mixing the potion."

"Right." Daisy nodded, contemplating the task ahead. Tim's coat went on. "Wait, let me just get this straight in my head. So if we make up the potion correctly for the spell..." Tim nodded encouragingly at her, backing towards the door. "And we get there at, what was it? Three...?"

"Three forty-eight."

"Three forty-eight in the morning on Halloween night..." Tim was still nodding, still trying to leave.

"And we do the spell..."

"Yep."

"Then Mike'll be ok?"

He stopped at the door, winced and avoided eye contact.

"Not exactly."

"What else then?" She asked guardedly.

"Well, for the spell to work, he has to stand at a specific point. And he has to drink the potion before we do the spell."

Oh, ok." There was a pause. "How are we going to do that?"

Tim gulped, glanced at the basket of biscuits. "We need someone on the inside."

"But we don't ha..." Daisy trailed off as she followed his eye line. "Tim, No! Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking!"

"Dais, they've got him chained up! He's their _slave_! Fuck knows what they're doing to him and I can't stand the thought of them... hurting him. If I eat the biscuits, I can help him."

"No!" Daisy cried, feeling tears pricking her eyes. The thought of what he planned to do was so horrific it made her feel nauseous.

"It's the only way! We have to get Mike in the right place at the right time, and besides that, he needs me. I have to go in there."

"But... will you be ok?" Daisy managed to croak.

"I'll be fine. Mike and I won't be true zombies because we aren't dead, just cursed. That's why the reversal spell will work on us."

"But... this spell is for saving one zombie, will it even work for two of you?"

"I think so."

"You _think_ so?"

"Yes, if we hold onto each other, it should see us as one entity."

"Hang on, this is why you asked me to get double the amount of the potion ingredients isn't it?"

Tim nodded guiltily.

"I reckon we should probably drink a full dose each to be on the safe side."

"But... it's just a book! What if it doesn't work, Tim?" Daisy was terrified she might never see him again, that he might never be the same again.

"It'll work. There's nothing Adam Shadowchild doesn't know about zombies."

"I hope so." Daisy's voice was barely a whisper, her face screwed up from the effort of trying not to cry in front of Tim. The fact that he was willing to sacrifice himself to help his best friend only made her more hopelessly in love with him. There, she had finally admitted it to herself. She was in love with Tim Bisley. Arrogant, self-absorbed Tim Bisley, who wasn't self-absorbed at all. Her assessment of his character flaws had been hugely inaccurate. She had never realised he was so loyal, that he could be so brave, or that he was capable of the kind of selfless heroism her romantic tendencies craved in a man. She felt the sting of a single tear escaping her eye. Tim stepped up close and tentatively touched her cheek, intercepting the teardrop with his palm.

"Don't cry, Dais. Everything'll be alright, I promise." His other hand went up to her temple, brushed back a strand of her hair and came to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just grazing the side of her neck. Goosebumps shuddered over her body as fear and love and lust all collided inside her simultaneously. She was suddenly aware of how infrequently he touched her, and never quite like this before. He was so irresistibly close, and holy crap he was so attractive, and HOLY CRAP he was looking at her like he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted him to. Daisy stopped her breath in her throat as Tim leaned in, his lips were heading for hers, his hand sliding round to the back of her neck. She shut her eyes, deafened by the pulse crashing in her ears. Nothing happened. The next thing she felt was Tim pressing a lingering, but chaste, kiss to her forehead. Her eyes snapped open in time to catch a tantalising close up of his lips and his facial hair as he pulled away. She watched in utter panic, and what seemed like slow motion, as his hands slipped from her face and he stepped backwards. The moment was receding fast, draining down the plughole of passing time. Tim was giving her a little reassuring smile. He was speaking to her. She had no idea what he was saying.

"...with enough time to cook up the potion. Are you alright, Dais? Can you do this for me?" She managed to nod in response. "Right. Synchronise watches."

"What?"

"You know, put our watches to the exact same time. It's what me and Mi..." Tim stopped and swallowed hard. "It's what me and Mike used to do. It was a TA thing he showed me." He finished quietly. Listening properly to him now, Daisy nodded again, and pushed her own feelings aside, aware of how much Mike's predicament was hurting Tim.

"Of course. Synchronise watches." She agreed solemnly. She moved next to him, lifted his hand to read the watch on his wrist and altered her own slightly to match. "You know, we can do this, Tim. We'll get him back." She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He curled his fingers around hers and returned the gesture, then looked up with renewed resolve.

"Right, let's do this. You get the animal stuff, I'll get the other stuff. Meet back here at nineteen hundred hours and we'll make the potion." Daisy looked confused. "Seven pm." Tim clarified.

"Ah, right. Ok"

Daisy reluctantly dropped his hand and pulled on her coat.

"Listen, if you get back here first, lock yourself in and don't open the door to anyone except me, ok?"

"Ok." She agreed.

"Thank you, Dais. I couldn't do this without you."

She gave him as much of a smile as she could muster, and headed out of the door.


	7. Of Bats And Benedict Cumberbatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out a lot longer than I planned, but hopefully still good fun! Anyway, as I like to think of this as 'Spaced – The Movie', thought I'd add a minor role for Benedict Cumberbatch (I've heard he needs the work, poor love. Lol!). His job is basically to help Daisy and make our lovely Tim jealous! Enjoy!

_Hi, I'm Daisy Steiner. Don't use your real name, you idiot. Hi, I'm... Oh for Christ's sake you're a writer, think of a character name._ Daisy exited Camden Town tube station and headed in the direction of London Zoo. Her inner monologue was arguing with itself and she had so far failed to come up with a single logical explanation for why she needed bat excrement, let alone any of the other things on her list. As she approached the entrance, she decided that, as a terrible liar, she had better stick as closely to the truth as possible. She bought a ticket and wandered around until she found the bat house. One of the zoo keepers was holding a bat for people to see close up in the foyer. And joy of joys, it being Halloween, it was a vampire bat. Daisy loitered about, trying to look inconspicuous, whilst simultaneously attempting to send telepathic messages telling the creature it needed to go to the toilet.

“Would you like to hold it?”

Daisy was startled out of her intense concentration by an unrealistically young looking zoo employee. She blinked, forcing herself to focus.

“Sorry, what?”

“You've been standing here quite a while, I just wondered if perhaps you wanted to hold the bat?” Flustered, Daisy inexplicably flirted with him.

“Oh, so you noticed me here, did you?” She asked seductively.

The lad looked suddenly awkward.

“Well, it's er... nearly five, so we're about to close the bat house actually.”

Daisy suddenly found the tiled floor extremely interesting.

“Oh, of course, sorry.” She mumbled, cheeks flaming, and turned to leave. Then she remembered why she was there and decided that, as she had already begun humiliating herself, she might as well finish the job.

“Actually...” She glanced at his name badge. “...Jake. There is something I'm hoping you could help me with. This is going to sound a bit odd but, I was hoping I could get...” She paused, unsure of the terminology which would cause her the least embarrassment whilst still conveying the intended meaning. “Well, obviously, it's Halloween, you know, and me and my friends are having a party, and... well we're going to have like a sort of cauldron thing, er, in the living room, and it's all going to be a witches theme, and all the lighting's going to be green and everything, and I thought it would be cool if we had some really gruesome stuff to put in the cauldron, and make the party really... er, authentic, you know? So anyway, I was thinking what could I put in this cauldron and I even looked in this stup, er, this book that had a spell in it, a fictional book I mean, I don't believe any of that stuff obviously!” She laughed rather manically, and rushed on before a confused Jake could interrupt. “Well, in this book, I forget the title, it listed all these Halloweeny things for a spell, and one of them was... well, bat poo.” She broke off, breathless from her frantic speech. Jake was silent and regarding her somewhat warily.

“So you want bat poo too?” He clarified. Daisy heaved a sigh of relief.

“Yes, that would be great, thanks.” She paused a beat as she absorbed his words. “What do you mean, 'too'?”

“Well you're not the first to ask for some today, so I guess your party idea isn't all that original.” Daisy froze, her brain scrambling to understand the implications of this information.

“Wh... Who else wanted some?”

There was a guy in here just a moment ago.” Jake looked up towards the exit. “There he is, red jacket.” Daisy allowed herself a single second of indecision, before coming to a conclusion.

“Look, I really need to speak to him, can you get me the stuff and I'll be back in a minute? Please, Jake, it's really important!”

Jake sighed resignedly.

“Oh alright then, I'll think of it as my random act of kindness for the day.”

“Thanks!” Daisy grinned and dashed after red jacket man.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” She called after him but he kept hurrying away. She broke into a run and caught hold of his arm. “Excuse me, can I talk to you?”

As he turned to face her, Daisy found herself looking into one of the most handsome faces she had ever seen. She gawped for a full few seconds. Dark, slightly tousled hair, startlingly blue eyes, clean shaven, impressive cheekbones, tall... taller than Tim. He bore more than a passing resemblance to Benedict Cumberbatch. He also looked terrified, and about to run

for it. “It's ok, I... I know, about the, you know...” She glanced left and right and lowered her voice. “zombies.”

'Benedict' hesitated, and Daisy continued, almost in a whisper. “I know you just got some bat poo from the bat house and I just asked for some too. You need it for the spell, don't you? You're trying to save someone you love, aren't you? So am I!”

Her last sentence convinced him to at least speak to her.

“Who are you? How do I know you're not involved with the people who did this?” His accent was well-educated, gentlemanly even.

“Well, I suppose you don't know. But I assure you I'm not! Our friend ate some crazy cursed biscuits and...”

“You got the biscuits too?”

“Yes! And now me and my... flatmate are trying to save him with a spell from some book...”

“Malevolent Sugar by Adam Shadowchild.”

“Yes, that's it! Blimey, I never thought anyone else would have read that rubbish!” Daisy clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. No offence.”

Luckily, he laughed briefly, which transformed his aristocratic features into an open and friendly expression.

“It's ok, it's my friend's book. The one who's been... taken.” He finished solemnly. “It appears we are both facing the same obstacles, perhaps we can work together? Be of assistance to each other?”

Daisy suspected that Tim would not be a fan of this arrangement.

“Well...”

“I have all the components of the spell now, if you would like to share them.”

At the prospect of escaping the certain embarrassment, or worse, the potential for failure, involved in acquiring the rest of the gruesome ingredients, Daisy ignored her misgivings. Besides, he was quite stunningly good looking and the prospect of seeing more of him was not in the least unpleasant.

“That's so kind of you! Thank you.” She held out her hand for him to shake. “Partners, then. I'm Daisy, by the way.”

“James.” He smiled again. It was almost as spectacular as Tim's. Almost.

 


	8. Close Encounter Of The Bisley Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Benedict' does his job perfectly here, resulting in a jealous, angry, horny, utterly irresistible Tim. Mmmm... know what I'd do with him... ;)

Tim's body tensed as he ascended the stairs to the flat. He could hear voices coming from inside. Daisy's voice, he was relieved to notice, did not sound panicked, but he did not recognise the voice of her male companion. He crept the last couple of steps and listened outside the door. The exact words were difficult to distinguish, but the tones used were not alarming. Concluding that Daisy was socialising at a time like this, with Mike's life at stake, caused a shard of anger even he found surprising. Tim opened the door to find Daisy and the guy whose voice he did not recognise sharing a cup of tea at the kitchen table. The fact that the man was exceptionally well groomed and wearing a beautifully cut suit caused Tim to take an instant, and quite irrational, dislike to him. The tea drinkers both looked up in surprise, and Tim was fairly sure, guilt, at least on Daisy's part.

“Who are you?” Tim asked bluntly, not finding the man's irritatingly handsome face any more familiar than he had his voice. “I told you not to let anyone in here but me.” He directed this last part at Daisy, who blanched in response to his anger.

“Tim!” She admonished with a nervous laugh. The laugh she always produced when she knew she had upset him. “This is Tim, James, my flatmate.” Tim bristled at her description of him. “Tim, this is James.”

“Hi, Tim.” James attempted a smile. It hit Tim's glare and froze, half-formed, on his face.

“What are you doing here, _James_?”

Daisy stood up defensively.

“I met James at the zoo. He... his friend was also taken, like Mike.”

Tim's suspicions were not calmed by this knowledge. He stood silently, scowling, arms folded, eyes narrowed, forcing Daisy to elaborate. “I... I said we could maybe work together, you know? Many hands...” She trailed off.

“Work together? Why? Couldn't you manage it on your own, James?” He sneered, uncharacteristically venomously, and unsure why he found the man so disturbing.

“Well, actually, James got all the ingredients for the spell and very kindly said we could share them!” Daisy huffed.

It was at that moment Tim noticed the huge saucepan containing the beginnings of the potion bubbling away on the hob. Wrong footed, he blushed, something he hated, and consequently hunkered down inside the turned up collar of his sweater.

“Oh... thanks... I guess.” He mumbled, teenager-like into the folds of his clothing.

“No problem.” James said good-naturedly. Smooth bastard. There was an awkward silence. Tim looked at the floor, embarrassed, and feeling distinctly outclassed, something else he despised. Fortunately, James made his excuses at this point. He and Daisy swapped numbers though, which Tim watched with a startling pang of something which felt suspiciously like jealousy.

“I'll be in touch tomorrow, James. Thank you so much for everything.” Daisy said as she saw him to the door. When it was closed behind him, she rounded on Tim.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why were you being so rude?”

Faced with attack, Tim responded in kind.

“Me? What the fuck were you doing letting a stranger in here! What was I supposed to think? I come home to find you with some random guy! At a time like this!” Tim was furious with her, but even more so with himself for being so jealous of James.

“Oh right! So of course I must be trying to pull him, mustn't I?”

“Maybe? How the hell do I know? You certainly looked cosy enough! With your... TEA!”

“Piss off, Tim, you're acting like a complete prat!”

Tim was aware he was being irrational, and that this was descending into a Marsha-Amber scale argument. But he could not stop himself, the idea of Daisy with another man had unexpectedly incensed him.

“You don't even know him! He could be anyone!”

“He's a nice guy!”

“He could have hurt you!”

“Don't be so ridiculous, Tim!”

“Why d'you have to invite him round here?”

“He had all the stuff for the spell! And he's going through the same thing we are! What's it to you anyway!”

“It's... I... I'm not...” Tim spluttered, unable to accurately express the feelings he was only just beginning to realise himself.

“Come on!” She goaded. “What the hell do you care? You obviously think I'm the sort of person who wants to sleep with every man she meets!”

“Of course I don't! I just don't want you... getting with some other guy!”

“It's none of your business!” He had never seen Daisy so outraged. It was actually kind of hot. That was the moment Tim finally realised he wanted her himself, and made the snap decision that he had to man up and tell her, otherwise perfect James might beat him to it.

“It IS my fucking business, I can't stand the thought of it!” He yelled. “I don't want you being with some guy in a fucking suit, Daisy! I want you to be with me!” Silence. Deep breath. Daisy just looking at him, open-mouthed, no indication of returned affection.

“For fuck's sake, say something.” He pleaded.

“You're bein' a complete prat.” She breathed, staring at him in shock. “But... I... want to be with you too.”

A spurt of relieved laughter escaped Tim's mouth.

“Thank fuck for that!” They stood looking at each other for an electric few seconds, then Tim went across the room to her and put his hand up to hold her cheek. He looked into her eyes, trying to convey emotions he was too scared to voice. He leaned down to her, her lips were so close, but those last few millimetres were metaphorical miles.

“No more fucking about then, hey?” He whispered, his voice unexpectedly husky. His eyes were locked on hers, needing a response, a sign that she really did want him to proceed. She tentatively parted her lips, tilting her head by the tiniest degree, edging infinitesimally closer to accept his kiss. Tim finally crossed the space between them, and almost groaned out loud with pleasure as their lips connected. He kissed her slowly, tenderly, but with firm assurance. Unlike with Sophie, who had initially intimidated him, he felt physically confident with Daisy, her familiarity calming his insecurities. He knew her so well that he felt whatever he did would be the right thing. He was gentle at first, savouring the moment, exploring how she felt, how she tasted, gauging what she liked. He slid his hand into her hair, and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her close. Daisy moaned softly into his mouth in response, and he felt her mould her body to his. Her arms went around his waist, and her hands under his t shirt and up his back, trying to get even closer. Tim gripped her tighter and pushed her backwards until she was pressed up against the door to their flat, crushed between it and his body. He was kissing her hard now, all fast and forceful as his excitement rapidly overtook him. He broke away to grab a quick breath.

“Is this really happening?”

“I think it might be. D'you want me to pinch you to make sure?” She grinned.

“Nah, s'alright. I'll take yer word for it.” He moved in again, kissing her lips, her cheek, then down her neck. He pulled her shirt off her shoulder to get access to the skin there. He wanted her desperately, but amid the lust, Tim felt the need to explain himself. He was ashamed of his earlier behaviour, and of the fact that he had only acknowledged his feelings for Daisy when he thought she was interested in someone else. He pulled back to speak to her again.

“I'm sorry, by the way... about being a dick about James before.”

Daisy smiled gratefully.

“Thanks. S'alright though, don't worry about it.” Then she kissed him eagerly again, and he had to pull away to get his next words out.

“It's just, I thought you fancied him and it made me go a bit mental. I was... jealous, I guess.”

“It's alright.” She insisted, grabbing another kiss. “It's you I fancy.”

Tim flashed his spectacular smile in response to the ego boost.

“D'ya wanna...?” He jerked his head towards his bedroom door by way of an invitation. She nodded, breathless.

“Ah hah.”

Tim grabbed her and she pulled his mouth back onto hers as they staggered their way, kissing, across the flat into his room. The lengthy build up of sexual tension between them was now resulting in an urgency that bordered on violence. They ripped away clothing, gripping, kissing, touching, desperate for each other, needing to feel skin on skin. Their lovemaking was hot and sweaty and fast and passionate. Maybe a bit too fast, but Tim had been so ridiculously turned on he could not make himself hold back as long as he would have liked. Daisy certainly didn't seem to mind, though Tim knew she had not orgasmed during their frantic intercourse. He took his time rectifying this, repeatedly, with his mouth, his tongue and his fingers. He stroked and kissed and licked, exploring her thoroughly, discovering exactly how she liked to be touched. He was fairly sure she appreciated his efforts, judging by the way she shuddered and whimpered and moaned his name every time he made her come. Eventually, he entered her again and went deliciously slowly this time. It was intense, tender, and eye to eye, until Tim found his release and collapsed on top of her, soaked in sweat and satisfied, and so dizzyingly in love it made him feel light-headed.

 

 


	9. Tim's Sacrifice

Tim and Daisy lay snuggled together afterwards. Daisy's head was on his chest, his arms wrapped around her. She was dosing, blissfully content and practically purring with happiness, listening to his heart thump slowly beneath her cheek. She stroked her fingers absent mindedly over the soft skin of his abdomen. Daisy had loved and lusted after Tim Bisley in equal measure for quite some time. He had filled her dreams and daydreams with erotic scenarios the nature of which she would never reveal to another living soul. The glorious reality of sexual intimacy with him had exceeded even her detailed fantasies however. He was forceful, enthusiastic and energetic in bed, but also delightfully tender and considerate when it was called for. He had perfectly balanced playfulness and humour with intensity and passion, and he had been decidedly thorough in his dedication to satisfying her. He was the most desirable man she had ever met and the best lover she had had the pleasure of enjoying. She was dramatically and hopelessly and completely in love with him, and now found herself compelled to at least try and tell him how strongly she felt.

"Tim?"

"Hmmm?"

"That was... so lovely. Amazing."

"Thanks, always nice to get good reviews."

She smacked him lightly, to which he deliberately overreacted for comic effect.

"Stop taking the piss. I was trying to tell you something." She protested, settling back onto his chest again, somewhat crestfallen that he had broken the mood, albeit unintentionally.

"Sorry. What did you want to say?" He looked down at her, stretching his head away awkwardly so he could focus on her when she was so close. Embarrassed now, Daisy avoided his eye.

"Er... can I stay in here with you tonight?" These were not the words she had planned, but the moment had passed and she had lost her nerve.

Tim's expression grew suddenly serious. He shifted up onto his side to face her, gently dislodging her from his chest and propped himself up on one elbow.

"Dais... I would love that, really I would but I... I have to help Mike." He looked genuinely pained. "I can't stay here when he's... suffering. He doesn't even know that we've got a rescue plan for him, he must be miserable."

"Yes, of course. You have to go to him." Daisy paused, not sure how to express her fears, worried he might think she lacked faith in him. Desperate for his reassurance, she took a risk, hoping he would understand her and how to comfort her. Just as he had always done.

"It's just... I'm so scared, Tim. This whole thing is so crazy and I don't want... anything to go wrong."

"It won't. I promise. Everything's going to be fine." He said sincerely, stroking his hand slowly up and down her arm as he spoke.

"But what if it does? I might never see you again and..." Tim stopped her speech with a finger over her lips.

"Shhh, it's alright. Nothing's going to go wrong. I'm going to help Mike, then you're going to save us both with the potion."

"And James' friend, Henry?"

Tim did a pretend grimace.

"Ok, yes! And James' friend, Henry. I'll find him and get him to the meeting point too. Listen to me, ok? Here's what's going to happen, I'm going to eat the biscuits and... change... and those guys were here in no time to collect Mike, so they'll come and get me too. You'll have to hide though, we can't have them seeing you." Tim broke off and swallowed hard, looking down. "When I eat those biscuits, Daisy, you have to lock yourself in your room, or in here ok? No matter what happens."

"Why?"

Tim looked back up at her again, his expression serious and seeming distressed at what he was about to say.

"Because... I might... hurt you. Mike almost didn't know who I was and I can't take that risk with you."

Daisy swallowed, tears rising in her eyes, but she nodded firmly.

"I know you'd never hurt me, not as yourself, but I understand. Can I stay in here? I'd prefer it."

"Course you can."

Tim gave her a long, tender kiss.

"I'm sorry, Dais. I'm going to have to go."

She watched him get up and pull his clothes on. When he was ready, he fished the key to his room out of a bowl of coins on his desk and handed it to her.

"Don't come out until they've taken me away, ok? They'll probably, you know, beat me up a bit but don't worry, I'll be fine." He winked at her, which he knew she loved, and then gave her one last kiss before he left the room. On the other side of the door, he paused.

"Daisy?"

"Yes?" She called back from his bed.

"Lock the door behind me. Do it now, before I..."

Daisy scrambled out of his bed and went to the door. She inserted the key and turned it, hearing the lock click into place. Tears were suddenly threatening to overflow her eyes again.

"Is it done?" Tim asked, his voice pitched a little higher then normal.

"Yes." She managed to croak back. There was a silence, Tim resting his forehead and the palms of his hands against the door on one side, Daisy shaking with the effort of controlling her emotions on the other.

"Dais?" Tim whispered through the door. She held her breath to stop her sobs and listen to him. "I love you."

Her face crumpled as she gave in to crying.

"I love you too, Tim." She wept, placing her own hands on her side of the door in an attempt to feel closer to him. Tim squeezed his eyes tight shut for a second, building the strength to rip himself away from the piece of wood that connected them. Then he forced himself over to the table and picked up the first biscuit from the basket.

Daisy found she could not remember clearly everything that happened after that. She watched him eat the biscuits through the keyhole. When he started to change, that's when it got a bit fuzzy. She did retain one particularly distressing visual, though. The image of the beautiful blue draining from the irises of Tim's eyes was something she did not think she would ever forget. She had always thought his eyes extremely expressive and seeing the life fading out of them was truly horrific. She also remembered her abject terror at what happened to him when the collectors came for him. She moved away from the door, unable to watch them beating the man she loved into submission. She crawled onto his bed, hugging her knees to her chest, sobbing silently with her hand clamped over her mouth to prevent herself from making a noise. When the flat finally fell silent, she stayed frozen to the same spot for a long time afterwards, too petrified to move. Eventually, she built up the courage and slowly slipped off Tim's bed, crept to the door, and checked through the keyhole that they had really gone. The flat was empty and deathly quiet. Aware she was now truly alone, she curled up on the floor of Tim's bedroom and cried uncontrollably, clutching one of his discarded t shirts and breathing in the comforting smell of him, trying to tell herself that everything was going to be alright, just as he had said. After a time, her tears dried and she knew it was time to toughen up. There was work to be done. She had to get the spell right, she had to get the potion right. She had to get to the right place at exactly the right time and do exactly the right thing. Tim was counting on her. She would not let him down.


	10. Laying The foundations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's obvious but feel I should state that I unfortunately don't own the luscious Tim Bisley (or any of the other characters from Spaced!).   
> With my tongue planted firmly in my cheek throughout this story, I'm just having a bit of fun with the creativity of Simon Pegg and Jessica Stevenson!   
> Hope you guys enjoy xxx :)

Tim had always wondered what it would be like to be a zombie. With his love of all things Science-Fiction, and possessing a mind as imaginative and creative as he did, it was hardly surprising that these thoughts had occurred to him. More than just occurred to him. He and Mike had talked long into the night about how they would survive a zombie apocalypse. They used to mutually agree that they would grab all those dear to them, at which point Tim had to be careful not to always mention Daisy first, and fight their way through the streets using Mike's impressive armoury, to the safety of The Shepherds. They easily concluded that the local pub would be the perfect place to hole up, being secure and containing a significant supply of food and drink. They had also made something of a pact, that if one or both of them were to become zombies, they would stick together and look after each other, no matter what. Tim was discovering, however, that being a zombie was not as much fun as he had hoped. For one thing it was painful. He felt like a very old and decrepit man, his joints were in agony almost constantly. It was also frustrating that his body did not respond the way it normally would to the messages from his brain. He found himself still able to think in exactly the same way as before, but he was trapped inside a useless shell that would no longer do his bidding.

 

On arrival at Duane's mansion, he had been thrown into a cell for the night and it was the following day, Halloween itself, when he first saw Mike. Tim had been taken outside to start working on the temple complex with all the other zombies. He caught sight of Mike's familiar, yet strangely lumbering form, chained in a line of zombie slaves, digging foundation ditches. He was horrified at the state of him. His clothes were ripped and revealed flesh wounds worthy of an extra from George Romero's “Dawn Of The Dead”. He appeared resigned to his miserable fate, cowering from the guards who were prodding him with shovels to make him dig faster. It was clear Mike had been tortured pretty badly, whereas Tim was aware that he had been barely touched in comparison. The reasons for this were worryingly unfathomable. Tim's immediate concern, however, was to comfort Mike and inform him that Daisy was going to rescue them. Tim was put to work digging in the same ditch as Mike and made his way along it until he was near to him. He waited until the guards were distracted by beating up one of the other slaves for working too slowly, then touched Mike on the arm. Mike turned round, crouching away from what he obviously expected was going to be another attack. When his eyes saw Tim, he started crying. His body did not move. He made no sound. Fluid just flowed out of his eyes. Tim, who was unshackled, again for reasons he could not discern, put his arms around Mike and hugged him gently. Mike could only just touch Tim's waist in response before his hands were jerked away by the digging motions of the slaves either side of him. Tim leaned in close and whispered in his ear, not wanting anyone else to hear what he was about to say.

“It's alright, mate. I'm going to get you out of here. Tonight we're going to escape and Daisy's made a potion that'll change us back to how we were. What cell are you in?”

“Nineteen.” Mike grunted.

“Don't worry about anything. Just stay alive and I'll find you. I promise.” Tim quickly stroked a comforting hand down the back of Mike's head and neck then abruptly let go of him as the guards returned. Tim also managed to locate Henry, James' friend, from a photo James had left with Daisy to help Tim identify him. Henry, it turned out, was actually James' boyfriend. A fact that made Tim feel even worse about how he had behaved towards James when he had thought he was cracking on to Daisy. When Henry heard about the plan to save them, he knew straight away that Adam Shadowchild's potion would be needed. Henry was a massive science fiction fan and told Tim he had been hoping James would somehow work out that the answer to saving him was sitting on their own bookshelf at home. Meeting someone else who was just as convinced as himself that the potion would work was extremely comforting to Tim. Although he would never have voiced anything of the sort to Daisy, who had needed his unequivocal reassurance, Tim did have doubts about the validity of Shadowchild's book. His inner concerns were completely soothed by speaking to Henry, however, whose enthusiasm for Tim's plan was infectious. Henry was a young guy, maybe only nineteen or twenty. His initially hostile demeanour changed once he knew Tim was a friend, and there was a chance of escape. He told Tim he would be working the night shift that evening, so should be able to get himself to the agreed meeting point by the fence in the trees without too much of a problem.

 

Later that day, Tim was thinking over his plan, as he smoothed out the freshly poured concrete as best he could into the foundations of the pyramid. His escape plot was fairly well formed, though he had no idea how he was going to get both himself and Mike out of locked cells. His musings were interrupted by a guard grabbing him roughly by the arm.

“Come with me.”

Tim did not argue, he had no choice in any case, his weakened zombie body unable to resist being dragged away. He was taken into the mansion house and led upstairs to one of the bedrooms. On being pushed inside the door, his already slack jaw dropped unnaturally low as he found himself looking into the evilly smiling face of his villainous ex-girlfriend, Sarah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pegg fans as obsessive as myself may notice my reference to 'The Shepherds' pub in this chapter. This was Simon and Nick's local when they lived together in London. It was the pub on which they based 'The Winchester' from Shaun of the Dead, the place where many of the film's ideas were conceived, and where they met Coldplay, then an unknown band who played little gigs in the corner. :D


	11. Tim's Second Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah tells Tim the master plan here, in true 'James Bond villian' style.   
> It gets dark again too though, as the depth of Sarah's vileness is revealed.   
> Hang in there, believe me it's necessary for the (admittedly crazy) plot!  
> Poor Tim :/

“Hello, Tim, darling.” Sarah was smiling sweetly at him. It was disconcerting to say the least. Tim squinted in the darkened room. There were blinds over the windows and a bedside lamp provided only dim illumination.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tim's speech was slurred on account of being a zombie, but he was still understandable.

“Oh, well, I'd have thought that was obvious, Tim. Duane and I are building an empire here. Somewhere from which we can defend our sovereignty when we take over the country.” Tim gasped, half in amusement, half in shock as he realised that she was serious.

“How the hell are you going to do that?”

“Easy. Zombie armies.”

“And what makes you think they're going to fight for you?”

“They're simple beings, Tim. Remarkably easy to control.”

“I think you'll be surprised.” Tim muttered darkly.

“They all have the same fundamental motivations. It's really quite pathetic how readily they capitulate at the prospect of certain... threats.”

There was a loaded pause. Tim knew her words had a significance that would no doubt become terrifyingly clear in due course, but he could not fathom what it was at present. Sarah continued, a malicious glint in her eyes.

“They make very effective weapons, actually. They cause mass panic, which is the main ingredient of a successful military campaign. And, every time they kill a human, we get the bonus of a new undead recruit! Double points!” Tim just looked at her in disbelief, stunned by how depraved she had become. How had he ever been in love with this creature?

“This isn't a fucking computer game, Sarah!”

“Oh I know! It's much better! I never could stand it that you spent so much of your time playing those stupid games instead of playing with me.” She had moved around the bed towards him as she spoke, smiling seductively. Tim recoiled, stumbling backwards into the wall.

“Don't be shy, Timmy. You're my little pet zombie now.”

“I'm not your pet anything.” He growled.

“Oh I beg to differ.” She spoke so coldly that Tim could swear he felt ice on the back of his neck. “Didn't you wonder why you haven't been hurt like all the others? Why you're allowed to wander around freely without chains?” She paused, and let the silence extend. She was exerting her authority over him, making it clear that Tim had to answer, had to respond to her.

“Why?” He spat, scowling at being controlled in this fashion.

“Because I didn't want your pretty face damaged, Sweetheart. I've missed you so much. Duane... well between you and me, it turns out he's a bit of a bastard. And he's not a patch on you in bed.” Horrified, Tim tried to back away but he just crashed into the wall at his back. Sarah stepped up and laid her hand on his chest. “You're actually even more attractive as a zombie, Tim. We're getting back together you and I, isn't that wonderful?”

“No we're not, you're insane!” He blurted desperately.

“Don't talk to me like that, Timothy. You belong to me, now. You're going to do exactly what I want.”

“No I'm fucking not!” He exclaimed, glancing towards the door. The guard still stood to attention between him and it, blocking his path. Sarah smiled again, it was the most chilling thing he had ever seen.

“Oh yes, Tim. Yes you will. You see I hold all the keys to freedom here.” She waved her arm over to the far wall, where hundreds of numbered keys were just visible in the half light hanging on individual hooks. “And I also hold the fate of every one of those creatures in my hands. Every one. Including your beloved Mike.” Tim swallowed nervously. Threatening Mike was the ultimate way to control him, the only way. He grimaced, knowing he was beaten but unwilling to accept it. He decided to attempt to call her bluff.

“So? What are you going to do? You've already kidnapped him, turned him into a zombie, and had him tortured!” Tim had to force himself to get out the last word without flinching and revealing how much it upset him that she had used Mike to get to him. Sarah looked surprised by his reaction, and disturbingly pleased.

“Ooooooooh! You want to play like this do you? How exciting!” She picked up a radio from the bedside table and pressed the button to speak.

“817, report, over.” She released the button.

“817 reporting, over.”

“Find number nineteen, please. It was brought in yesterday. Ugly, fat thing.” Tim stepped forward and opened his mouth to attack her for talking about Mike like that. Almost before he moved, he was intercepted by the guard, who pinned his arms by his sides, and held him still. “I think it's time we had it branded.” Tim shut his eyes tight, as if somehow by not seeing her, he would not hear her words either. “Oh and castrate it too, please. I don't want that breeding with the females.” Vomit surged into Tim's throat.

“Ok! Ok! Stop! Don't! Don't hurt him, please!” Sarah looked triumphantly over at him, Tim glared murderously back. “I'll do whatever you want.” He was practically gagging on the words. “Just please tell them not to hurt him.”

The radio crackled into life.

“Understood. 817 collecting 19 for branding and castration right away. Out.”

“Ooops. Too late.” Sarah said, mock sympathetically.

“What! Call him back!” Tim dived forward trying to grab the radio from her, but the guard yanked him back.

“Stop him! I said I'd do what you wanted!” He struggled with every ounce of power his weakened body possessed but it was no match for the inhuman strength of the guard holding him. “You fucking lunatic!” He screamed at Sarah. “Stop him, or I swear I'm going to fucking kill you!”

“Now now, Tim. Calm down, what terrible language.” Sarah admonished. She turned away and flicked on a screen on the wall which had hitherto also been hidden by the darkness. The picture showed a dark cell with chains on the wall. Tim watched helplessly as Mike was brought in and restrained in the chains. There was no sound, but he could see Mike's mouth moving, pleading, asking what he had done wrong. And he could see how terrified he was.

“Stop it! For fuck's sake! I said I'd do whatever you want, you fucking maniac! Stop it right now!” Tim was panicking, adrenaline pumping. His yelling summoned the attention of two further guards who entered the room to assist the one already holding him back. Sarah frowned at Tim.

“Don't speak to me like that, Tim. I can't bear that sort of language and aggression from you.” She was chastising him like a child. On the screen someone was approaching Mike slowly with a glowing red metal poker. Two guards ripped open his shirt. Mike flattened himself to the wall, wide zombie eyes fixed on the advancing poker. Tim was desperate, utterly powerless. The guard was closing the gap to Mike, he was about to burn the number nineteen onto his skin. Adrenaline spiking, heart crashing, Tim could do nothing but watch. Then he thought about what Sarah had said. She didn't want him to be aggressive. He instantly switched tack, softening his voice, willing to try anything.

“Sarah, I'm sorry. I promise I'll never speak to you like that again. I'll do whatever you want. Please don't hurt Mike. Please. I'm begging you. You can do whatever you want to me, but please don't hurt him.” She looked at him then, her eyes suddenly filled with joyful tears. She pressed the button on the radio as the man with the poker was leaning over Mike's chest.

“Change of plan, 817. Stand down immediately.” The guard on the screen straightened and turned to look at his radio, which lay on a table. He moved away from Mike to retrieve it and reply. Tim let out a large breath.

“817 standing down. Shall I release it back to work?”

“No. Keep it there. I may reactivate your commands at any time.” She ordered, with a pointed glance at Tim. The guards moved out of shot. Mike's body sagged on his bonds with relief. “Now you've learnt how to behave, Tim, we can talk. You see, I'm not a monster, I just know what I want and I'm prepared to do anything to get it.” Tim remained silent, still recovering his breathing. “Gentlemen, leave us please. Take a spare radio and order the continuation of nineteen's treatment if this one disobeys me, or attempts to harm me in any way. Although I believe we have now come to an understanding.” She looked expectantly at Tim, forcing him to nod his confirmation. He was trapped. Even if he killed her with his bare hands, which was tempting, Mike would be tortured or worse, and he would never be able to rescue him. There were hundreds of guards between this room and the one where Mike was being held. There was no way out, she was in control and he would have to give in to her demands. One be one, the guards released their hold on him and left the room.

 

Once they were alone, Tim did everything Sarah required of him. His brain found her revolting, but she easily manipulated his body. As a zombie, it was only ever half under his control, and she remembered what he used to respond to when they were together. When she first touched him and began to remove his clothes, the urge to push her away was almost unbearable. But he only had to glance at Mike's chained and battered body on the screen to restrain himself and allow her to do whatever she wanted to him. He closed his eyes at every opportunity to try to shut out what was really happening. He tried to conjure the image of Daisy's sweet smile, and imagine it was her body beneath him. His fragile hallucinations were not enough, and he simply had to endure the torment. He had never thought he could find sex so abhorrent that it made him feel physically sick. But he knew what he was going through was nothing compared to what Sarah would have those men do to Mike if he did not comply. No matter how humiliated and degraded he felt, Tim forced himself to perform for her, and dutifully obeyed her every command.


	12. Pairing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winding up for the big finale now! :D

Tim had never moved so carefully. He concentrated on one part of his body at a time, ensuring he stayed in complete control of the location of his limbs. The secret was not to rush, which was difficult, as he was desperate to get to Mike. Sarah lay fast asleep beside him and he was delicately inched his way out from under her. He slipped out of the bed, soundlessly pulled on his clothes and crept over to the wall of keys, searching along with his fingers until he found the one numbered nineteen. Mike's cell.

After Tim had given Sarah what she wanted, he had persuaded her to let Mike go back to his cell. Tim had watched, dry-mouthed with anxiety, as he was led away on the screen. At least while Mike had been there, he could see that he was all right. But he had no idea where that cell was, which would have made rescuing Mike from it pretty difficult. His influence over Sarah stemmed from the fact that she was clearly besotted with him, and genuinely seemed to believe that he loved her again. She had told him over and over how much she desired him and how amazing the sex had been. A tiny, fleeting satisfaction had presented itself to him at the knowledge that he could outperform Duane in bed, even though he was both a zombie and an unwilling participant. Tim had displayed impressive acting skills, convincing Sarah that he had enjoyed having sex with her, and more importantly, that he could be trusted. She trusted him to such an extent that she had even given a radio message to her guards that he was allowed to walk about the mansion freely, as he was her pet. Tim had repressed the indignant anger he felt at being referred to as such, as the command to leave him alone was far too precious to endanger. Sarah had eventually fallen into a contented sleep beside him and, under the circumstances, he could hardly have hoped for a better outcome. After stealing the key to Mike's cell, Tim walked out of her room as if he owned the place. When guards approached him, he only had to give his number and they allowed him to pass unhindered.

 

Daisy, meanwhile, had spent a mostly sleepless night in Tim's bed after he was taken, drowning in the scent of him everywhere. She got up frequently to check on the potion, which smelled slightly less vile the longer it boiled, and waited for sunrise. When eventually the morning came, she contacted James and he came to meet her at the flat.

“Hello, Daisy.” He was as polite as ever, but looked tired as he took off his coat and hung it on the back of the door.

“Hi. Thanks for coming round. I could hardly sleep a wink last night. How about you?”

“It was rather difficult, yes. It's the waiting around. I hate not knowing he's alright.”

Daisy nodded her understanding and they looked at each other for a moment.

“I'm sure he's fine.”

James nodded back, clearly unable to reply without losing control of his emotions. “D'you fancy a cup of tea?” She asked. He managed a small smile in response and nodded again. “Have a seat.” Daisy turned her back and busied herself making the tea, giving James time to compose himself again. By the time she turned around and handed him a steaming mug, he smiled properly back at her.

“Thank you.”

Daisy found herself unexpectedly taking charge then. The day was spent talking about their friends and repeatedly reciting the spell. James was a fantastic support, helping her learn the words, but insisted he would not be able to remember them himself. He quailed at the idea of being responsible for such a vital part of the rescue. She was surprised to discover this lack of self confidence, as the initial impression James gave was one of calm assurance. With her writer's command of the English language, it was not the spell that worried Daisy in any case, it was the potion. It bubbled away throughout the day, as they had agreed to leave it as long as possible due to the foul ingredients. She was convinced it had the potential to make Tim and Mike very ill, and was sure irony would enjoy saving them from a zombie curse whilst simultaneously giving them some deadly disease only contractable from eating bat excrement. Of course, no doctor would be able to diagnose or treat such an illness, on account of it not having been discovered yet, on account of no one being previously daft or desperate enough to eat bat poo. Daisy had explained all this in a barely comprehensible babble to James, who had gently suggested that perhaps she was over thinking because she was nervous and worried about her boyfriend (his words) and his best friend. Apparently far more composed on this issue than he had been about the spell, James had given her a hug and talked calmly to her. He was very calming, actually. And very nice to look at. Not that she looked _unduly_ , of course, being in love with Tim. They exchanged comfort and reassurance in this way, and drank endless cups of tea, as time dripped, painfully slowly, down the clock.

 

Darkness had fallen outside as Tim weaved his way around the corridors of the mansion, adopting various stories regarding where he was going when questioned, until he eventually found the sort of heavy wooden door that could only lead to an underground system of dungeons and torture chambers. He had nicked a baseball cap from one of the guards without them noticing, and pulled it down to conceal his zombie eyes, which were a bit of a giveaway. When all this was over and he was fully human again, something of which he had no doubt now things were going so well, he would secretly miss those zombie eyes. They were insanely cool, if he was honest. He had glimpsed himself in the mirror in Sarah's bathroom and, without being too narcissistic, he could see why she was obsessed with him. Forcing such egotistical thoughts to the back of his easily distracted brain (it seemed he was impossibly vain as a zombie) he pushed the large door. It swung open to with a stereotypically spooky creaking sound. Tim almost laughed, the place was so over the top, it was completely ridiculous. The corridor behind the door sloped downwards, obviously heading underground into the network of cells hidden from view at the surface. Intermittent illumination was provided by wooden stakes set alight and resting in fittings on the walls, _actual flaming torches_ , leading him to wonder again at Duane's lack of imagination. He lifted one out of its housing and carried it with him. It would make an excellent weapon, should the need arise. Somewhat disappointingly for Tim, it did not. He advanced quickly down the corridor completely unchallenged. He moved swiftly, knowing he had an hour and a half to free Mike from his cell, and get the two of them plus Henry to the meeting point with Daisy. He was confident that was sufficient time, but not if he dawdled about. He searched along the network of tunnels, chuckling again to himself at the inappropriately helpful signs on the walls explaining the locations of all the cells. Following the instructions to find cells 15 – 20, he hurried past the numbered cell doors until he reached nineteen.

“Mike!” He hissed through the door, hoping to gain only his attention. There was a silence. Tim leaned close to the door and listened. Then he heard it. A deep rumbling, grumbling noise. Shit. Mike was snoring. Tim groaned, knowing how difficult it was to rouse a sleeping Mike at the best of times, let alone a zombie version. He inserted the key and unlocked the door, checking up and down the corridor one last time before entering the cell.


	13. The Grest Escape: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting exciting now, folks! Hold on to your hats!  
> There's some sexy, fighty, badass Tim coming up - yum! :D   
> Oh and comment if you spot the Hot Fuzz reference!  
> Hold on to your hats! xxx

Daisy and James took the tube to Highgate that evening, and walked along the tree lined streets leading to Duane and Sarah's mansion. They each carried a backpack, James' containing three glass bottles of the potion, which ended up dark green and, though the odour had improved significantly, could never be said to smell pleasant, and Daisy's carrying Colin. On exiting the station into the cold, blustery night, their level of anxiety was not helped by the numbers of half drunk party goers sporting various Halloween costumes who filled the streets. As they moved away from the high street, however, the revellers thinned out and they were passed by few other people.

“Tell me again why we need the dog?” James asked over the rush of the wind.

“It's not the dog we need, really. It's just having him with me makes me feel better. He went missing once and Tim found him and brought him... well it's a long story but he's a good luck charm, just trust me, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Look, there it is.” Daisy pointed at the iron gates set into high brick walls which signalled the entrance to the mansion on the opposite side of the road.

“How long have we got?” She asked. James checked his watch.

“Forty five minutes.”

“Perfect. Ok, we need to get around to the back where the woods are. The boundary there is a high fence instead of these walls. That's where the meeting point is.”

 

Tim stepped inside Mike's cell and held up the flaming torch to light the small room. Mike was lying on the ground. There was no bed. He was asleep, but Tim quickly realised the noises he had heard were not those of Mike snoring, but of him groaning and moaning, as if in pain. His face was all screwed up, there were tears on his face and his hands clawed at the air. He was dreaming.

“Mike. It's me. Wake up.” Tim tried gently, but unsurprisingly, got no response. He laid his torch on the ground in the doorway, not wanting to get too near Mike with it, then went over and grasped one of his friend's chunky biceps.

Mike! Wake up!” he cried urgently and shook him as hard as he could. Mike jerked awake, crying out incomprehensibly, and blindly thrashed at Tim who ducked and dodged to avoid the swipes.

“It's ok, it's me! It's Tim! Mike! It's Tim!” Mike stilled and blinked his colourless eyes at him. He looked so utterly distraught Tim just wrapped his arms around him.

“It's alright.” He hugged Mike tight for a few seconds, weak with relief himself to finally touch him and know he was still alive. “We have to get out of here. Come on.” Tim pulled back and helped Mike to his feet. Mike was still suffering from the beatings he had received but, clinging to Tim, he could just about walk. Tim led him along the corridors, reversing the path he took to find Mike's cell, until they reached the wooden door again. Behind the door, there were two fire extinguishers and a wall mounted glass case containing a fire axe with a sign instructing: 'In the event of fire, break glass'.

“Fire, I have got.” Tim muttered. He smashed open the case with the unlit end of the torch, then handed it to Mike.

“Anyone tries to hurt you, burn 'em.” He ordered grimly, grabbing the axe out from amongst the broken shards of the case. Brandishing the axe in one hand and dragging Mike with the other, Tim shouldered his way through the dungeon door.

 

Daisy and James had made their way around the perimeter of the estate, pelted by swirling Autumn leaves, and pushed through a thick hedge to get into a field behind the rear boundary fence.

“Was it this windy when we got out of the station?” James had to almost yell to be heard.

“Don't think so!” Daisy replied, turning her head to shelter her face from the biting cold air. “I think it's something to do with the spell!” Daisy stood with her back to the hedge and the estate fence on her left. “Forget about the weather, we need to get in position!” James nodded in agreement. “We have to go two hundred metres along the fence line, where there should be a small clearing in the woods, hidden from the main house.” Daisy instructed. “Let's count our strides, that should get us roughly to the right place.” They set off confidently, a full moon bleaching the ground with pale light that provided enough illumination for them to make out the shapes of tree roots and small logs. They marched through the overgrown grass, counting their steps. James had significantly longer legs than Daisy, however, and over time they grew further out of sync with each other, which eventually led to a heated discussion regarding the exact location of step one hundred and twenty seven. They compromised, after a fashion, by James agreeing to alter his step count to match Daisy's. On reaching two hundred, the woods on the other side of the fence were still as thick as ever.

“This doesn't make sense!” Daisy howled. “There should be a clearing here! What are we going to do!”

“Let's just keep going and see if it's up ahead.” James yelled back, suspecting Daisy's short legs were to blame for undershooting the distance, but being far too diplomatic to say so. He was also too gentlemanly to remind her of his counting adjustment when they came across the clearing approximately fifteen metres further on.

“Brilliant! I knew it would be here!” Daisy shouted triumphantly. James just smiled and nodded. The roar of the wind was now almost deafening, tree branches were beating each other up, the losers crashing to the ground. Daisy took off her back pack and set it on the ground. Colin was hunkered down inside it, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“It's alright, Colin. We're going to get Daddy back.” Daisy blushed as she realised what she had said, then covered it up by yelling to James. “There's only ten minutes to go, they should be here soon. Let's get everything ready.”

 

Tim shoved open the dungeon door to reveal two guards leaning against the opposite wall, smoking cigarettes. Taken by surprise, they were slow to react, and Tim let go of Mike to swing the axe, double handed, and with impressive precision, into the first guard's chest. He collapsed, spluttering blood as a trembling Mike feebly thrust the flaming torch at the advancing second guard. The prospect of being set on fire was enough to make him hesitate and Tim swiftly buried the axe into the back of his head. Mike recoiled in horror as the man crumpled to the ground, his head split open, and Tim yanked the bloodied axe upwards to free it.

“It's alright, Mike, they were baddies. Come on.” Tim reached for Mike's hand again as he stepped over the corpses of their victims. He dragged him through the ground floor of the mansion into the grand dining room and over to a set of huge sliding glass doors leading to the garden. He took the torch from Mike and tossed it under the curtains framing the doors.

“That should keep them busy.” He said as flames started to lick their way up the dusty curtains and wallpaper towards the high ceiling. Tim turned and swung his axe high to break the glass doors but stopped himself as he saw Mike was simply sliding them open.

“Ok. Good. That'll work too.”

The wind howled in as they stepped outside. It was so strong, Mike could hardly stay upright on his battered legs and reached out for Tim. Tim wrapped an arm around him, still clutching his axe in his free hand, and leaned into the wind in order to make progress across the patio. They staggered onto the beautifully manicured lawn, the open expanse of which needed to be crossed before reaching the mercifully dark woodland into which it eventually blended. Tim trampled over the sign telling them to keep off the grass as he half carried, half towed Mike along as fast as he could towards the safety of the tree line. It was a long way, and though he did not look back, he could hear shouts coming from behind as the fire was discovered.

 

Henry, being good with his hands, had been put to work carving ornate patterns into the great stone blocks that would form the walls of the pyramid complex. In order to do this intricate job, he had been left unchained since he arrived, his hands free to chisel and chip away at the blocks, creating beautiful carvings. He was working as usual in the stone mason's shed when several of Duane's men burst in to collect the guard watching him and his fellow workers.

“Fire at the great house!”

“Come on!”

“Everyone's needed to fight it!” They were all yelling simultaneously. The stone masons' guard leapt out of his chair and ran after them, locking the zombie workers in the shed behind him. Henry knew instantly this must be a distraction orchestrated by Tim and looked around for a way out. The other zombies just carried on working, too afraid and indoctrinated to stop. The chisel in his hand was the only thing even vaguely resembling a weapon, so Henry dashed over to the door and started smashing at the lock with the pointed end. He had no hope of unlocking the door but if the wood around the lock was not too thick, he just might be able to smash through it. Bleary eyed zombies slowly looked up at what he was doing as he hurled his chisel into the splintering wood with all his strength. A couple of them started snarling at him as his tool started to break through the door with each blow. One or two of the boldest zombies lurched out of their seats and stumbled towards him as he levered desperately at the lock fixings. He finally severed the lock from the door and ripped it open. His shoulder was grabbed from behind by a clawing zombie hand, pulling him backwards. Henry twisted and squirmed, arms flailing desperately until his chisel made contact and sunk into soft, yielding flesh. As the zombie clumsily tried to remove the chisel embedded in its eye socket, Henry freed himself from its grasp and hurtled out into the stormy night.


	14. The Great Escape: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is basically a no-holds-barred, adrenaline-fuelled thrill ride! ;)

Daisy and James had the bottles of potion ready as three bedraggled figures, struggling against the wind, emerged into the clearing. They staggered, silhouetted against the burning mansion behind them, their clothing ripped and covered in blood splatter.

“Tim!” Daisy screamed. “Hurry! There's only a minute to go!” She held out their two bottles through the wide bars of the fence.

“Henry!” Yelled James, stretching his own arm through the divide to offer the final bottle. Henry grabbed it, ripped the lid off and was gulping it down within a matter of seconds. Tim took the bottles from Daisy and handed one to Mike. Mike fumbled with the lid with his uncoordinated, injured hands. Tim reached out to help him but, before he could grab it, the bottle tumbled out of Mike's hands, smashing on the ground at his feet.

“Shit!” Daisy and James cried in unison. Tim did not hesitate long enough even to blink.

“You can share mine!” He unscrewed the lid from his own bottle. “I'll hold it for you.”

“Timmy!” Mike protested. “Can't take yours!”

“I didn't go through all this to leave you behind, now drink! That's an order!” Intimidation seemed to work and Mike opened his mouth obediently.

“Thirty seconds!” Daisy yelled. “You have to have drunk it before three forty-eight!”

Tim held the bottle carefully, concentrating fully on tipping it at exactly the right angle to allow Mike to slowly swallow it down without spilling any or choking.

“Shit, more of them are coming!” James was pointing into the woods. Daisy glanced up in the direction he was indicating. Moaning, lumbering shadows were slipping out of the darkness surrounding the clearing as zombies tried to escape the burning estate.

“Twenty seconds!” She called to the boys.

“Start reciting the spell!” James urged. Daisy looked at him in a blind panic.

“I... can't remember...”

James dived into his backpack and produced Henry's copy of 'Malevolent Sugar'.

“I brought it, just in case!”

“It says it has to be recited, not read!” Daisy countered.

“Just remind yourself of the first line! Then you'll be fine! You can do this, Daisy!” He was holding out the book, open at the relevant page, marked with a fluorescent post it note. She reread the words, determined to recall them perfectly.

“Ten seconds!” James called. Mike pulled back from Tim's now half full bottle.

“Rest's yours.”

“You're bigger than me, you'll need more!” Tim insisted. Mike shook his head, lips pressed tightly together. “MIKE, DO IT!” Tim screamed furiously. “Or I swear I'll pour it on the fucking ground!” Mike accepted the bottle again, tears running from his tightly shut eyes.

“Five seconds!” James called.

“Oh noble spirits of darkness, let you see light!” Daisy began, shouting loud and clear over the snarling wind. “We do your bidding this special night!”.

She forced herself not to deviate from casting the spell, though she could not take her eyes off Tim.

“Let your power be in mercy, and not in fear!”

“Three seconds!”

Tim pulled the bottle from Mike's lips.

“Let those be free whom we hold dear!”

“Two!” He knocked back the potion like a shot of tequila.

“One!”

Tim was still gulping and swallowing frantically when a deafening crack signalled the end of the spell casting window and a hot, paralysing light flooded the clearing. Thick, dusty smoke descended, surrounding them instantly, making it impossible to see more than a few centimetres. Daisy instinctively cowered away and felt James' arms going around her. She hid her face in his chest as the smoke swirled and the light buzzed and the hurricane roared around them.

Then just as suddenly, silence. Darkness. The air so still it would not lift a feather. Daisy tentatively raised her head and looked around to see the smoke and dust drifting softly to the ground. As it cleared, the figures of Tim and Mike materialised, holding onto one another, each of them with their heads bowed to protect their faces in the neck of the other. Daisy watched, not daring to speak, as they slowly looked up at each other. Tim smiled at Mike. Daisy could see the flash of his white teeth in the moonlight. Then blue eyes looked at her, eyes she had thought she might never see again, and she realised she was crying. Mike was saying something to Tim, who turned back to him, nodding, grinning, reassuring, then pulled him into a hug again. The zombies at the edges of the clearing were very slowly regaining their dulled senses, a couple of them beginning to moan in despair.

“Is everyone alright? Henry?” James asked, looking worriedly at Henry, who would not lift his gaze from the ground.

“I don't know.” Henry said quietly. “I never felt that different. Tim, can you look at my eyes please?” Tim gave Mike's shoulders a final squeeze then went to Henry.

“Look at me, mate.” Tim said gently. “Ooooh you've got such lovely brown eyes!” He exclaimed in a ridiculously camp voice. Henry stared at him for a second, bewildered and unsure. “You're fine, Henry. You're human.” Tim assured him with a smile. The tension in Henry's body dissipated so suddenly that he collapsed against Tim. They hugged each other and Tim patted him on the back.

“Er, Daisy? Do those others look friendly to you?” James asked, pointing at a couple of the zombies who were starting to shuffle towards the boys, growling and groaning.

“No!” She gulped. “Tim! Look out for the others!” He looked over his shoulder at the advancing pack of zombies.

“Shit.” Tim was glancing around for a way out but there were so many of them, coming from every direction. They could sense human flesh. He was no longer one of them. He was food.

“We'll have to climb out!” He shouted to Daisy. “Go! Start Climbing!” He pushed Henry towards the fence. “Mike! Come on!” He ran back to Mike, whose injured legs were slowing him down, and helped him along. The snarling zombies were closing in around them, reaching out, almost close enough to catch them.

“Tim!” Daisy screamed. Colin leapt out of the rucksack and, in a frenzy of barking, went dashing through the pack, snapping at zombie ankles and distracting them from their slow pursuit of Tim and Mike.

“Colin!” Daisy screamed again.

As Tim and Mike reached the fence, Henry was already half way up it, and out of reach. Tim and Mike began climbing, Tim scurrying upwards like a squirrel on a tree trunk. He looked back, saw Mike struggling to get off the ground and jumped back down to assist him. He lifted Mike's legs, finding footholds for him to stand on, gradually moving him the first few feet off the ground. Colin was going mental behind him, charging at zombies, tearing chunks off any that got too near. But there were lots, and the pressure of numbers was forcing them closer and closer. Tim ignored what was happening behind him, focusing only on getting Mike up the fence in the most efficient manner possible. Colin was losing the fight.

“Tim! Start climbing!” Daisy screamed desperately. Tim stepped up onto the fence as a dead hand clawed down his back, tearing through the fabric of his t shirt. Colin scampered back through the bars of the fence and jumped into Daisy's waiting arms. Mike had managed to haul himself another foot higher, just out of reach of the zombie hoards. Tim scrambled up the fence but bloodied fingers were grabbing and dragging, pulling him down. A ghoulish face sunk its teeth into Tim's left shoe. Gripping the fence with both arms, Tim spun his body and hurled his legs out, kicking viciously at his attacker. He booted the zombie with such force, the head was torn from its soft neck. Tim's body crashed back against the fence but he ignored the pain of metal meeting flesh and climbed as fast as he could, up to safety, as a cacophony of distant sirens heralded the arrival of the emergency services. Holding on with one hand, Tim helped Mike over the top before clambering through the curls of barbed wire himself. He did not even notice the rips and tears the wire inflicted on his skin. Halfway down the other side, they jumped to the ground to avoid the wailing creatures reaching through the fence. Tim landed and rolled in one fluid movement that ended with him on his feet again. Henry and James helped Mike up while Daisy ran to Tim and threw herself into his arms, almost knocking him over with the force of her embrace. Tim laughed breathlessly and gripped her tight as they stumbled backwards.

“Woah there, Pickle.” He grinned at her. “Everything's alright now.”

Several police helicopters went low overhead as James and Henry hugged and kissed each other, watched by a surprised Mike.

“Didn't see that coming.” He murmured to himself. His mouth dropped open, though, when he turned around to see Tim kissing Daisy, her hands on his blood covered cheeks, his arms wrapped around her.

“What the hell did I miss?” He looked from one couple to the other in shock. Tim looked at him, still holding Daisy in his arms.

“Don't worry, Mike, you'll always be my number one.” He reassured. Mike smiled from ear to ear, like a child opening a Christmas present he really wanted.

“Don't tell Mike.” Tim whispered in Daisy's ear. “But you're my number one too.”

“Oh really? A person can have two number ones can they?”

Tim smirked cockily.

“ _I_ can.”

Daisy could not help laughing. The relief and delight that it was all over was making her somewhat hysterical.

“Let's go home, shall we?” She giggled. “I could murder a cup of tea!”

Tim reached out his hand for Mike to take and Daisy held his other as the three of them set off across the field with Colin bounding along beside them.


	15. Epilogue: Truths And Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story could very well end there, but I couldn't resist an epilogue! :D

Daisy handed Tim a cup of tea, smiling at the simple pleasure such an ordinary, mundane action could bring her. She would never again wish for a more exciting life. All the excitement from now on could be on the pages of the novel she felt suddenly inspired to write, a first foray into science fiction, which may involve zombies. Daisy placed her own tea on the coffee table, dragged the bean bag over to the sofa, so she could be beside Tim, and flopped down on it. Tim was kneeling on the floor, still wearing his torn, bloodstained clothing and with streaks of vivid red on his face. He was leaning over Mike, who lay shirtless on his back on the sofa. Tim's hands, the only bit of him he had taken the time to clean, were stroking tenderly over Mike's body. He was cleaning his wounds with swabs, gently rubbing in antiseptic cream and applying bandages and dressings. Mike drew quick, sharp breaths when Tim had to apply cream to a particularly sore gash on his shoulder.

“Sorry.” Tim said, wincing in sympathy. “It'll feel better in a minute.” Tim comforted him with his touch, caressing an uninjured part of his head, running his fingers through his hair to distract him from the pain.

“Mmmm Timmy.” Mike murmured in response to the gentle pressure of Tim's fingers on his scalp.

“Is that alright? Not hurting you am I?”

“Uh, no! S'nice. Don't stop.”

Tim smiled and continued lavishing his attention on Mike. Daisy sat on the beanbag, cradling her cup of tea. The TV in front of her was on quietly, but just to provide the background noise that she knew made Mike feel secure. The flat was warm and cosy and familiar. She was exhausted but blissfully happy as she watched Tim and Mike. She felt none of her previous jealousy, understanding and respecting their relationship now she had her own special place in Tim's affections. She raised one arm to prop it behind her head, and Mike reached out to slide his hand into hers. She smiled at him, and gave his fingers a little squeeze. She observed Tim for a moment, dealing with one injury after another.

“They really hurt you, didn't they?” Daisy said, her voice soft and sorrowful. Mike screwed his face up, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, as though trying to block out the memories of what he had endured. Tim noticed his reaction and frowned.

“You can tell us about it if you want.” He suggested. “Or not. Totally up to you.”

Mike seemed to consider this for a moment and then nodded, taking a deep breath.

“It was... horrible.” He started so uncharacteristically quietly, Daisy had to lean in to hear him. “There were about four of them... at least I think there were. All a bit hazy if truth be told.” Daisy squeezed his fingers again, encouraging him to continue. “I... was.... chained up... to the wall... and they used cricket bats and... whips... and their fists and their boots.” Mike mumbled. Neither Tim nor Daisy moved a muscle, their breaths unconsciously held to prevent distracting Mike from his, hopefully therapeutic, recollections. “It hurt so much, Tim.” Mike's voice was starting to crack. “I tried to be strong. I tried not to show the pain. I thought about you. I was trying to mentally take myself out of the situation. Standard technique for withstanding interrogation.” His tone strengthened as he spoke of the military procedures in which he was confident. “I do remember thinking, though, that I was glad they weren't trying to get information out of me. Because I would have cracked for sure.” He sounded morose, now, and defeated. “I'm weak. Not fit for service as it happens.”

Tim was evidently not willing to remain silent while Mike berated himself like that.

“That's not true. You weren't Sergeant Watt in there. You weren't even human.” Tim ducked down to get in Mike's line of sight. “I wish I could have stopped it, but you _were_ brave, Mike. You're not weak, if it was me I probably wouldn't have survived what they did to you. I just wish I had those bastards here now, then we'd see how brave _they_ are!”

“That was pretty cool how you took out those guards with the axe!” Mike perked up.

“An axe, eh?” Daisy asked, raising an eyebrow at Tim, remembering the Philippa Forrester moment. Tim waved his hand dismissively.

“It was nothing, You distracted him with the flaming torch, which made my job easy.”

Daisy's eyes widened.

“There were flaming torches?”

“A lot of shit went down, Daisy.” Tim said solemnly.

“Sounds like it. What happened after the collectors came for you?”

“Were you here? When they took Tim?” Mike asked.

“Yes. But we knew they were coming so I hid in Ti... the bedroom.”

“Hang on, you knew they w...” Mike gasped as realisation dawned on him. He looked at Tim in horror.

“Did you eat those biscuits... on purpose?”

“It was the only way I could get you out of there.”

There was a silence as Mike absorbed this.

“You did that... for me?”

“Well that and I've always wanted to be a zombie, haven't I.” Tim laughed, trying to make light of it.

“Timmy... thank you... I...”

“Don't be daft, you'd do the same for me.”

Mike nodded resolutely.

“Yes... Of course I would.”

“Well then. You don't need to thank me, do you.”

“But how did you find me? How did you get into my cell?”

Tim looked uncertain for less than a second, but Daisy saw it.

“Oh that! I found the key! Lucky eh?” He babbled too quickly. “Don't worry about it any more, Mikey, it's over. D'you want to go to bed? You must be knackered.”

“That I am, Timmy.” Mike hesitated, clearly having something else to say. Daisy looked away, hoping to make him feel comfortable enough to voice the problem, but evidently Tim knew instinctively what it was.

“You can sleep in my room. No need to tackle all those stairs, is there.” And then he added in a low voice. “And I'll be right out here if you need me.”

Mike nodded his businesslike nod. Tim stroked his hair one last time then stood up, helped him to his feet and steered him towards the bedroom. Daisy tidied up in the kitchen whilst Tim settled Mike in his bed and sat with him for a while. She could hear Tim talking quietly, and Mike's drowsy replies becoming less and less frequent. She caught a glimpse through the open door of Tim holding his hand and stroking his forehead, as though soothing a frightened child. Once Mike was finally asleep, Tim took some clean clothes and, leaving the bedside light on behind him, he headed into the bathroom. Daisy watched him strip off his torn t shirt to reveal long, deep scratches down his back. The reddened, swollen skin looked extremely painful, yet Tim had not uttered a word about his own injuries for the entire time they had been home. All his attention had been focused on easing Mike's pain, both emotional and physical. She felt another stab of affection for him, her stomach flipping at the thought that he could be so sweet and gentle when taking care of Mike but, by the sound of it, equally vicious and brutal when protecting him during the escape. And then there had been that tiny awkward moment when, she was fairly confident, Tim had lied about how he got the key to Mike's cell. That warranted investigation, as she suspected he may be covering up even more selflessness, the knowledge of which might have made Mike feel guilty, or indebted to him. As she sat back down on the beanbag, Tim emerged from the bathroom having washed the blood off his face. He was wearing clean jeans and, in what she could only assume was an attempt at ironic humour, his 'Dawn of the Dead' t shirt.

“Budge up, then.” He nudged her arm with his knee, indicating he wanted her to make space for him. Daisy shifted over and he sat down carefully, gritting his teeth as the bean bag touched his back. He raised an arm to wrap around her shoulders and she moved in against his chest, breathing in the delicious smell of him, luxuriating in the warmth of his body. Tim heaved out a long breath and tightened his arm around her, pulling her in closer.

“You were amazing tonight.” He said, turning his head to kiss her temple. She smiled at the touch of his lips and the brush of his facial hair. She snuggled into the crook of his neck and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms. But the question had to be asked.

“You know earlier, when Mike asked you about getting the key to his cell?” She felt Tim's body stiffen slightly.

“Mmmm?”

“You didn't tell him the whole story, did you?” Tim did not reply, but she felt him swallowing nervously. “You can tell me, you know, if something happened to you that you don't want Mike to know. I wouldn't blab to him, or anyone else for that matter.”

More silence. More gulping. Possibly a stifled sniffle. She waited, staying cuddled against him, avoiding pulling back and pressuring him with eye contact. When he eventually spoke, his voice was shaky.

“You're right. Something did happen.” There was another long pause. “Sarah had Mike and she was telling the guards to... do things to him. Horrible things. Things no doctor would be able to make right, things that would affect him his whole life.” Daisy shuddered, but did not ask for specifics. “She said...” He broke off, his voice strained, and took a deep breath. “She said she wouldn't hurt him if I... I had no choice, Dais, I promise you. I would never... She showed me him on a screen, all chained up and terrified! They were going to burn him with red hot metal! Brand him! And then... worse! I had to... do whatever she wanted!” Tim's voice finally broke and he gave a strangled sob. Daisy gasped, horrified, as she realised what Tim was trying to say.

“She made you...” She searched for the most sensitive way to put it but decided plain speaking would at least avoid confusion. “Are you saying she forced you to have sex with her?” She felt Tim's whole body cringe at her words and he nodded, unable to say it out loud himself. She finally pulled away to look at him. His thin veneer of strength had collapsed. All his usual confidence, cockiness and male pride had vanished. Tears were running down his face. He looked broken, miserable and humiliated.

“I'm so sorry, Dais.” He gasped. “I would never do that to you... you know... voluntarily.” He wiped his face on his sleeve. “I couldn't let them... Mike... They were going to... she said to... castrate...” Tim struggled over the word. “...him. Like he was an animal or something!” Daisy was speechless, horrified and furious, which Tim obviously saw in her face. “I'm so sorry. I know you won't...” He took another gasp of air, seemed to force himself to be resolute. “You won't want to be with me any more and I understand that. I hope we can still be friends, but if you want me to move out...”

“Tim!” She admonished, even more horrified now. “I do not want you to move out! And of course I still want to be with you! This was not your fault! She threatened you! She made you! She... she... urrghhh! I want to rip out her _spine!_ ” Daisy cried. Tim blinked in surprise.

“You're not angry at what I did?”

“Not with you! And it's like you said to Mike. He wasn't himself in there and neither were you. So she didn't even get _you._ Not the _real_ you. Not the one with me now.” Tim was looking at her in astonishment.

“You... you still want to be with me?” He asked.

“Of course I do.” She confirmed. “I'm only going to say this once so listen up. You are the bravest, kindest, most loyal, most selfless man I have ever met.” She paused for effect. “And I love you.” She leaned in and kissed him slowly. When she pulled back they were both breathless. Tim swallowed, still looking slightly bewildered.

“You're pretty amazing yourself... and I love you too.”

She smiled at him and then snuggled down onto his chest again, nuzzling into a comfortable position. She felt Tim wrap his arms tightly around her and rest his head on top of hers. She sighed heavily. Despite the horror of what he had just told her, Daisy was happy. Tim and Mike were safe, that was all that mattered. She suspected there might be further repercussions from this, as Tim came to terms with the reality of effectively being raped. But Daisy hoped he now knew that she would be there to help him recover.

The quiet of the flat and the warmth of their bodies cuddled together was immensely soporific, not to mention the fact that neither had slept properly for two days. Eyes drifted closed. Breathing slowed. As they fell asleep in each others arms, neither of them noticed the heel of Tim's left sock was stained with a slowly expanding patch of red...

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always think epilogues are kind of optional, so if you don't like the twist, pretend it doesn't exist! :) (Ooooh, that rhymes! Lol!)
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts, and huge thanks to those of you kind enough to have already written comments, given kudos, or bookmarked this story, it is MUCH appreciated! xxx :D


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